Brought Up That Way
by kml8990
Summary: Kurt Wasn't brought up that way. This is a story revolving around Burt/Kurt father/son love, with some implied Puckurt.


Brought up That Way

Kml8990

Implied Puck/Kurt slash - don't like it, please don't read.

As he sucked in another deep breath in an effort to suppress a sob that threatened to escape from his throat, all Kurt could think about was that he was tired. He was tired of being the target of homophobic cretins; he was tired of being the scapegoat for over emotional human beings, he was tired of being different. Actually, no he wasn't. He was proud to be different, he just wished that being different wasn't seen as such a horrendous thing that he needed to get shoved into lockers and take slushies in the face day after day. He just wanted to be happy, and that was a feeling he hadn't felt in quite a while.

If he had been aware of his surroundings, he would've noticed his father's truck parked on the curb when he pulled his Navigator into the driveway, but he was too focused on getting inside the house and locking himself in his room until he would be forced to live it all again tomorrow to pay that much attention. So when he let himself into the house, he was startled when he heard a voice behind him.

"Hey Kurt, how was school?" Burt's deep voice took him by surprise and he whipped around to face the man, his satchel falling carelessly to the floor before he could stop it.

There were a lot of things that Burt did not understand about his son. He didn't understand the difference between a Marc Jacobs sweater and once you could buy at the local Wal-Mart. He didn't understand what all that crap Kurt put on his face each and every night really did. And he really couldn't understand why Kurt would rather spend his time in high school dancing and singing rather than playing sports and partying like normal teenage boys, but they were all things he had slowly come to accept as attributes that made Kurt who he was. What Burt did understand was that Kurt was his son, and while he may be a little unique, he didn't love his son any less for it. Another thing Burt knew about his son was that Kurt was strong; Burt had made sure of that the moment he had figured out his son was playing for the other team and would be taking some heat for it. So to see Kurt standing in the entry way, his face red and blotchy and his eyes watery, Burt knew something bad had to have happened to his son to break through that strong outer shell the kid had and that thought burnt Burt to his core.

"Kurt? Kid, what happened?" the man questioned and for the first time in years, Kurt ran to his father in search of comfort.

When Burt found himself with an armful of his son, he was taken aback for a few moments before he enveloped his son in his strong arms and held him tight. He doesn't know what to say, so he just holds his son and waits for an explanation.

"I don't want to go back." Kurt cries into his father's shirt. "I just wish they would stop it. I just want them to stop it. I've never done anything to any of them but they still torment me every day. I tried to be strong dad. I really have, but I just can't take it anymore."

A pissed off Burt Hummel was not someone that should be messed with. That was clear just from the aura he was giving off as he stalked down the hallway of McKinley high school early the next morning. The students in the halls parted like the red sea, making room for the angry man as he be lined for the principal's office, not bothering to knock as he pushed open the door.

"I'm only going to say this once, so you best listen up." Burt growled, not giving Principle Figgins the chance to protest his sudden appearance in the man's office. "Kurt Hummel is my son, and every single day he steps into this place and faces bully after bully after bully. He's been tortured and humiliated at the hands of other students and you haven't done a damn thing about it."

"Now Mr. Hummel, we do not tolerate bulling here at McKinley High…"

"Then why the hell did my son come home crying yesterday?" Burt roared, his voice loud enough to penetrate the glass walls and into the hall where various members of the glee club had stop to listen when they recognized the man. "Now you listen to me, I didn't raise him so they could bring him down. I didn't enroll him in the school so they could shut him out. I've spent my whole damn life trying to make that kid smile as much as possible, even if it meant I had to do some soul searching of my own. So when just mentioning school wipes that smile off his face, something has to be done. He wasn't brought up this way."

Your first love makes your head spin with a single word, and that sometimes can get you in trouble, especially if your first love was one Noah Puckerman, the self proclaimed badass of McKinley high school. Kurt knew going into this relationship that Noah was more….experienced…than he was, but he had taken the chance anyway, in hopes that Noah wouldn't push him into anything.

Thos hopes were dashed, when one minute they were innocently making out in the back of Puck's truck and the next Kurt was trapped underneath his boyfriend with Puck trying to stick his hand down the skin tight pants Kurt was adorning. His small hand gripped Puck's wrist, moving the searching hand away from his lower extremities, eliciting a growl from the larger teen.

"No Noah." Kurt stated firmly, looking up at his boyfriend with scared and upset eyes. "I told you I wasn't ready."

"What's there to be ready for?" Puck asked as he sucked on the side of Kurt's neck, his hand traveling up the smaller teen's thigh until he reached the waistband once again. Kurt shoved the hand away more forcefully than before and pulled himself out from under Puck.

"If I really matter to you, if you really cared, you wouldn't have even had to answer that question." Kurt said softly before moving to the front seat of the truck as he fought back tears. "I want to go home Noah."

Kurt listened to his boyfriend curse and mumble all the way back to his house but he chose not to speak. He wasn't really sure what there was to say to the other boy. When Noah pulled up in front of his house, Kurt let out a sigh of relief and slid out of the vehicle without a word. He made his way up the walk, and tried not to pay much attention to the fact that Puck was waiting to make sure he got in safely. When he did make it inside, the distinct sound of Puck speeding away filled the quiet neighborhood.

"How was your night?" Burt asks from the doorway to the kitchen. Kurt turns around and offers him a small smile as he peels his coat off.

"Good." The one word answer slips out softly and makes Burt frown. In the two months that Kurt had been dating the mohawked kid, Kurt always came home smiling and talkative.

"What did you do?" Burt pressed, watching his son closely.

"Just had dinner and saw a movie." Kurt said with a shrug before attempting to pass his father. Burt's hand on his elbow stilled him.

"You want to tell me what's wrong? No bull."

"He wanted more than I was willing to give him." Kurt said softly, looking down and away from his father until Burt placed a hand under his chin and lifted it back up.

"I didn't bring you up so he could wear you down. You've got a heart of gold Kid, and I didn't raise you to let some other boy walk all over it and tarnish it. I've spent my whole life trying to do right by you and make you smile so don't let anyone, especially that boy, take that away. You weren't brought up that way."

If Burt knew just how much one phone call could affect him, he would've disconnected his phone a long time ago. Actually, no he wouldn't have. If he had, he wouldn't have known to head to the hospital for his son. As he sped down the road, he kept replaying the phone call in his head.

He hadn't thought much of it when he answered until a deep voice spoke on the other line.

"Mr. Hummel? My name is Officer Tate, I'm with the Lima police department." Burt's heard had stopped right then and there, but the man hadn't finished speaking yet. "Sir, there's been an accident. You better come down here to Memorial hospital right away. A drunk driver missed an overpass, and sir your son is fading fast."

The first thing he saw when he ran into the ER was a bloody and bruised Noah Puckerman with tears in his eyes as he clutched what Burt recognized as the overly expensive coat Kurt had pulled on before leaving that evening. When Puck saw him, the teen's eyes widened before he was blubbering out an explanation,

"Mr. Hummel! I swear, I never saw the car coming. And when I did, It tried to move out of the way, but he was going too fast and he slammed into the side of the car." The shaken teen cried. "If I could've I would have made them hit my side, but there was just no time…"

Burt cut the boy off by pulling him into a hug and holding him tight. He felt Noah's arms wrap around him as he cried on his boyfriend's father's shoulder, the hand not holding Kurt's coat, clutching the flannel of Burt's shirt like it was his lifeline. Footsteps approached them and Burt turned to face the doctor standing next to them.

"I want to see my son."

He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see when he stepped into the hospital room. Maybe he expected it to all be one elaborate miscommunication, that Kurt was perfectly fine, just a little banged up lying on the bed begging to go home. But that wasn't the case.

The breath in Burt's lungs was painfully expelled when he looked at his pale son lying lifelessly in that hospital bed; the blankets around him making him look even smaller than he already was. He stepped up to the bed and gripped Kurt's hand in his own as he fought back his tears. And for the first time in a long time, Burt prayed.

"God, I didn't bring him up to watch them lay him down. It nearly killed me the day I had to bury his mother. The only thing that kept me alive was that little boy's smile, so please don't take that away from me. It won't be easy trying to take him today. He can put up the best bitch fit I've ever seen. He won't come easily; he wasn't brought up that way."

He was using his free hand to wipe at his eyes when he felt Kurt's hand squeeze his own. He immediately lent over the hospital bed,

"Kurt? Kid, it's Dad. Can you open your eyes for me?"

A few tense minutes passed before he was rewarded by clear blue, frightened eyes staring up at him and he felt a relieved smile form on his face. He had been right. Kurt wasn't going to go without a fight. He wasn't brought up that way.


End file.
